


Devotion

by Zai42



Series: Promptober 2019 [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Companionable Snark, F/M, Kissing, Loyalty, Scars, Undeath, Undressing, WotLK Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: There is one constant in Nathanos' existence.Prompts: Dirty talk, powerful, corsets





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This took longer than expected, so I'm combining days 5 & 6 and not following the prompts for either of them. :P

The sun in Lordaeron was never quite as perfect as it was in Silvermoon, but the way the thin, silvery morning light caught in Sylvanas' hair was never less than exquisite. Nathanos allowed himself to watch her with his expression unguarded - she would tease him if she were awake, ask if he were so ensorcelled with her elven beauty, and he would grouse and call her vain and never admit that he was, of course. He reached out to carefully tuck a strand of her hair out of her face.

  
Her lips twitched in a smile and she spoke without opening her eyes. "Good morning, Ranger Lord," she said, her tone lilting with humor. She squinted up at him and wriggled closer, until his shadow blocked the sun from her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked, lazily draping one arm over his waist. Her fingertips danced low on his back, intimate but not yet salacious.

  
"Early still, Ranger General," Nathanos murmured, forgetting to put any ounce of irritation into his voice. "Though perhaps it would be best not to linger. Bad enough you spent the night. There will be rumors."

  
"Mmm, I was waylaid by a sudden storm," Sylvanas said dismissively. "How kind of my ranger lord to open his home to me." She slid her calf over Nathanos' legs, rolling him onto his back and settling comfortably on top of him. Her eyes gleamed like sapphires as they raked over his bare chest, and she bit her lip, grinning wickedly, before meeting his eyes once again.

  
"The great Ranger-General Windrunner, taken off-guard by a storm?" Nathanos asked. He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, felt the subtle shift in the muscles there. "Perhaps you're losing your edge." He tilted his head up to meet her lips, placid and acquiescent as she kissed him, slow and demanding and thorough.

  
"An interesting theory," Sylvanas said into his mouth. "Shall we test it, Marris?"

  
(As it turned out, she most certainly had not, and the resulting scratches and bruising did indeed spawn rumors when Nathanos accompanied her back to Eversong. They were vexing, of course, but Nathanos allowed himself to indulge in a degree of smugness when Lor'themar glared at him in disapproval.)

* * *

Sunlight rarely filtered down into the Undercity, and what light there was was wan and unhealthy. Sylvanas' face was hidden in shadow as she listened to the reports from Northrend, just the fiery red of her eyes glowering out from beneath her cowl. Nathanos lurked in her shadow, one hand resting almost casually on the longbow at his hip. The notable absence of Varimathras from the circle of her council hung heavily in the air, though none dared to comment on it.

  
Nathanos felt what remained of his lips twitch into a snarl at the thought of the dreadlord. It irked him to think he had been wasting his time in the Plaguelands while his Queen contended with traitors alone. Nathanos noticed Faranell eyeing him curiously, and schooled his features back into contemptuous neutrality; the apothecary looked away, sufficiently cowed.

  
"Very well," Sylvanas was saying. "You are all dismissed. The Dark Lady watches over you." As the others took their leave, Sylvanas laid a hand on Nathanos' wrist, just for a moment. "A word, if you would, Blightcaller."

  
Sylvanas did not turn as Nathanos entered her chambers behind her and busied himself with locking the door. "We will need to turn our eyes to Naxxramas," she said; she held out one armored arm, her fingers curling around Nathanos' when he took her hand. He brushed a kiss over the back of her knuckles, tasting the dark metal of her gauntlets before he began to undo the leather straps.

  
"I would relish the chance to send it crashing into a mountainside," Nathanos said. He eased the gauntlet from her hand and moved to the second. "Something troubles you."

  
Sylvanas did not answer, watching him as he pulled away her second gauntlet, nodding minutely when he hesitated to begin unclasping her cloak. She closed her eyes when he lowered her hood. "We are so close," she said softly, her voice taut with venomous determination. "The fallout from the Wrathgate has been...frustrating."

  
Nathanos slid her pauldrons from her shoulders and draped her cloak over an arm. "Merely a setback," he said. "We will see the Lich King destroyed." He lifted her hair away and began to loosen the ties of her corset. "I will not rest until he is in ruin," he added, more softly. He stepped back to allow Sylvanas to sprawl into a chair and knelt to remove her boots. Her hand ran through his hair, stroking him as if he were a treasured pet.

  
"Stay there," she murmured when he made to stand; he obeyed, letting her coax his head into her lap, her fingers moving in slow circles over his scalp. He looked up at her, and for a moment, in the dim light, he could see her as she had been in life, fuller, less gaunt, warmer and brighter and more radiant. Then he blinked and she was the Banshee Queen once more, dark and dangerous, the white of bone peeking through the thin grey of her skin - no less beautiful for it. "Champion," she said, stroking along the exposed hinge of his jaw. "Come."

  
She pulled him up into a kiss, and he went willingly, letting her guide his hands as she would. His fingertips found the jagged scar Frostmourne had left over her heart, and for a moment she froze, her hand clenching tight over his wrist; Nathanos leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "I will tear him to pieces for you, my Lady."

  
Sylvanas loosened her grip one finger at a time. "Keep going."

  
"I'll send him screaming into the Nether," Nathanos murmured, his lips brushing the cool of her skin; he pressed a kiss behind her ear. "Take him apart by inches, however you willed it." She eased him down into her lap, settling against the high back of her chair and watching him with her eyes blazing like embers. "How dare he touch you," Nathanos breathed, more tender than he had meant to, and Sylvanas huffed out a laugh.

  
"Make it up to me, then," she purred, and Nathanos kissed her deeply, flattening the palm of his hand against the gnarled scar on her chest. His skin remembered how she had felt beneath him once, alive, soft and unscarred, and some dark corner of his mind preferred her like this. He grazed the curve of her ribs, dipped his hand lower to find the dramatic jut of her hipbone, bowed her head to sink his teeth into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

  
"My Queen," he breathed. _(My love,_ he didn't say, though it sizzled like acid on his tongue.)

  
"My Champion," she replied, and arched against him. Her hand curled around the back of his neck, held him still while he shivered against her. "Warm my bed, tonight."

  
"I've long since lost the capability," Nathanos said, distractedly.

  
Sylvanas laughed, not low and cruel like she tended to in public, but something almost warm, almost alive, almost affectionate. "And I've no need for beds, Blightcaller," she said. "Do as your Queen commands." And Nathanos, as always, hastened to obey.


End file.
